Something About Everything
I have so much to say. So much I've been wanting to say.
My mouth feels rough, dry, sore. From underuse. Gum.
I wonder what that lady would say if she saw me now? "Look at the paper, read the quotes, and just know you don't need self-harm to get through it. You are strong. And brave. And-"
Too fucking bad. I gave that paper to Lily, to burn.
Shut the fuck up. You don't know me. I'm not strong, I'm not brave, go the fuck away you don't know why I do the things I do.
Everything she said struck me as an insult.
Hit me in the face.
"....cutting is common...........you're not alone.......brave to ask for therapy.....you did good this session.............open up..............."
Oh, god, shut up this is what I wanted when I was SUICIDAL. No one listened. I nearly killed myself, but that was two months ago, and where am I now?
I'm at the point where I don't want this. Let me be... I honestly want this to go away. Yes, I'm depressed, whatever, but like you said, its common.... so doesn't that mean I can get through it?
"...dead in the summer..."
I said that. Not to her. In my dream. Well if it was a dream. The breakdown in lily's house (if that even happened), I said I never wanted to eat again and that I'd probably kill myself in the summer.
That is when I am most alone.
I'm so angry. I'm SO ANGRY. Usually I am calm... or indifferent..... but when I get furious.....it swallows me.
And I'm gone.
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